


Guardianhood

by FancyKraken



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alien Biology, Aliens, Anal Sex, Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Honeymoon, Humor, M/M, Married Life, Oral Sex, Outer Space, Ravagers - Freeform, Smut, StarAccuser, kragdu
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-09 05:36:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11662686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyKraken/pseuds/FancyKraken
Summary: Ronan and Peter just want to enjoy their honeymoon in peace. And have lots of sex, travel around the galaxy, have more sex, and enjoy their newly married status. Of course, one being a Guardian of the Galaxy and the other a former Kree zealot, things never really turn out as they would have expected.





	1. Temple of Dumb

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Staubengel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Staubengel/gifts).



> This is a birthday fic for one of the best people in my life, Staubengel. Happy birthday, hon, I hope you enjoy this. <3 I wish nothing but the best for you.
> 
> Major, huge, and amazing thank you's to Riah for beta'ing this for me and giving me such solid feedback. You have no idea how much it meant to me for you to do this.
> 
> Timeline wise most of this takes place between the first and second movies with the latter half of it being after Volume 2. This will not strictly follow canon because it's my fic and I can do what I want, Thor. Yondu is alive and well throughout this whole shebang. 
> 
> Kragdu is the side pairing in this fic and chapters that just involve them will be clearly marked so you can skip them if you want (there won't be very many as this story focuses on Peter and Ronan and their journey).

Normally work like this would be beneath him. Far, far beneath him. So far beneath him that he would have someone, who had someone else, who had their own someone else have another someone do the something like this. Ronan frowned deeply as another drop of muddy water dripped down from the ceiling of the abandoned temple, hitting him on his bare head. With a quick swipe of his hand, the offending drop was banished, leaving room for more to take its place. He should have worn his helmet, but his husband insisted he wouldn’t need it. This would definitely be the last time he would listen to his husband’s advice.

Said husband was several feet in front of him, no worse for wear, but happy and excited nonetheless. Peter Quill, aka Star-Lord, aka Mr. Accuser, was happily shining his light stick over the walls of the old and ruined temple looking at the carvings and the once brilliant décor. Decades of neglect had rendered this once brilliant temple, carved into the side of a mountain no less, to a dank and musty cave. Weak light from the outside filtered in, giving the place an eerie feel of something that wasn’t quite meant to be here anymore.

This was not how Ronan envisioned their honeymoon. Well, technically Ronan had never envisioned a honeymoon at all as it was not a Kree tradition, but when Peter had mentioned the Terran tradition of taking a vacation after saying ‘I do’, Ronan thought that it actually might be a good thing. Living on a ship with several others took its toll sometimes and it would be nice to have Peter just to himself. He could make Peter scream his name wherever he wanted without lewd remarks or things being thrown in their direction. Ronan didn’t care who saw him claim Peter, but Peter did. Being from Terra it was frowned upon to watch others having sex unless it was on TV. Whatever that was. Now they were two weeks into their honeymoon (Peter said he’d contact the rest of the Guardians when he and Ronan were coming back, which was fine by him) exploring these ruins.

Peter hummed to himself, but the echoing chambers around them acted as a natural amplifier so Ronan was subjected to disjointed parts of “Come and Get Your Love’. While Ronan wasn’t particularly fond of Terran music, he had grown to appreciate Peter’s love for it and those times when it was just the two of them and Peter would just start tapping out a beat or hum one of his favourite songs.

“Peter,” Ronan said, kicking away rubble in front of his path. “There is clearly nothing here, let’s head back.”

“Mmmm?” Peter replied, his head half in a very large container trying to make out if there was anything in it. Finding nothing, he stepped back to look at Ronan, a large cobweb sticking to his eyebrow. “What was that, babe?”

“There is clearly nothing here, let’s go back and have something to eat.”

“I put snacks in the bag.” Peter smiled. “C’mon, Ro, it’s only been an hour.”

 _An hour too long,_ Ronan thought. “The bar owner was clearly telling you mere stories. There are no jewels nor priceless artefacts here. Look at this place, it’s been abandoned for centuries,” Ronan grumbled, gesturing to the crumbling sconces.

“You’re probably right, but what if it’s true?” Peter widened his eyes for emphasis at the possibility. “Just a bit longer babe, then we can go back and eat. Then I’ll blow you nice and hard and take all that sweet love of yours.” He smirked wickedly.

While the inner Ronan felt that warm simmer of arousal at Peter’s statement, the outer Ronan remained stony-faced and grumpy. He gave a small huff and followed after Peter down another corridor to who knows where.

 

They eventually ended up inside what could only have once been the grand prayer room. Or as Peter called it ‘the big ass throne room.’ The walls climbed several storeys into the air, the ceiling hidden in the shadows. A large stone dais sat crumbling at the farthest end; the once large seat that the Head Priestess or Priest would have sat on was cracked in two. Large statues of unidentifiable shapes and creatures loomed overhead; their eroded eyes still seemed to have a presence within. Ronan eyed them wearily. He knew better than to disrespect the old ways of the gods of his people and others. Old power never truly dies.

Peter walked quickly over to the dais, ready to inspect each nook and cranny. If there was something of value, it would probably be here. All the other rooms they had checked came out empty, which was expected, but Peter had still hoped for some luck to be on their side. He was in complete Indiana Jones mode. Ronan just followed in his wake, silent and blue, hoping his husband would tire of this game soon.

“Babe, could you hand me the scanner?” Peter asked. Ronan reached into the pack and pulled out the scanner, handing it over. “Thanks. Almost done here, promise!”

“That’s what you said three hours ago.”

“Was it that long? Shit, I’m sorry, Ro. I’ll be quick!” Peter flashed him a slightly apologetic smile, climbing the stone stairs to the dusty, cracked throne.

As Peter climbed, Ronan sat down on a large block of fallen debris. He rummaged in the pack and pulled out one of the snacks Peter had said he packed earlier. Looking at the wrapper, the barest hint of a smile touched his lips. At least he had packed one of Ronan’s favourites. He unwrapped it and began to eat, watching Peter scan the surrounding area for any types of metal and other objects that could have been man-made.

Minutes ticked by and Ronan got more ticked off. Peter was over by the base of one of the large statues, looking under fallen debris.

“I think I’ve found something!” Peter’s voice echoed through the hall.

Getting up, Ronan came over to see if it was true. Then maybe they could get out of here. He had an itch that only Peter could scratch.

Peter was quickly brushing away dirt and fallen debris that had partially obscured a large crack in the statue's base. Once he had cleared enough away, he stuck his hand into it to reach for something.

“YAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!” Peter screamed, pulling his hand back out lightning quick. He stuffed his hand under his left arm, falling over on his side.

Ronan was on him in an instant, concern thick in his voice. “Peter! Peter!” Swearing loudly in Kree, he rolled Peter over, careful not to touch his arm. “Peter! Show me your arm! What happened?” He could feel Peter trembling under his hands.

Biting his lip, Peter uncovered his hand and held it up to Ronan. “Ta da!” He wiggled his fingers, his hand appearing fine.

Ronan blinked, confused. Frowning, he grabbed Peter’s hand examining it from all angles. Peter was trying to suppress his laughter.

“I do not understand,” Ronan frowned deeper, his voice puzzled. “Why did you scream?”

“It was a joke!” Peter grinned, leaning up on an elbow. “Y’know the ol’ hand trick. Someone reaches in something, pretends to be hurt, everyone laughs. Or screams.”

Ronan was most certainly not laughing. An angry storm cloud could take a lesson from the expression he now wore. He narrowed his eyes. “A joke? You faked injury as a joke?” Each uttered syllable grew deeper, more gravelly, and more dangerous.

Now Peter had seen Ronan unhappy many times, mostly with him because, well, he was Peter. But this unhappiness on Ronan’s face was different, a tinge of the real predator that lay underneath that strong Kree façade breaking through.

Licking his lips nervously, Peter started to second-guess his stupid prank. “Um. Yeah. It—it’s actually kinda funny back on Earth when the…” the words died in his throat as he was unceremoniously hauled up by the shoulders of his duster jacket under the powerful grip of the Kree. When Ronan wanted to show his strength, he sure as hell did. A little voice in the back of Peter’s head just hoped he hadn’t ripped his favourite jacket.

Ronan held him there, staring at him. Peter had a very sudden interest in something just over Ronan’s shoulder, so he looked there to make sure that interesting thing didn’t go away.

“Never. Do. That. Again.” Each word was punctuated by the promise of certain death and/or dismemberment. Didn’t really seem to matter what order.

Peter swallowed. “’Kay.” It was all he could get out. He’d fucked up big time and knew it. The back of his neck was suddenly trapped in a vice like grip. He knew Ronan could break someone’s neck just from that, so he appreciated that his husband still had some care with him in this matter.

Ronan pulled, hard, and began dragging Peter up the stone dais steps to where the cracked and crumbling throne was. Each step was met with an “ow, ow, ow” as Peter was dragged up. He lost his footing on a couple of steps as Ronan practically dragged him, not caring if Peter would keep up. The hold on the back of his neck was enough to keep Peter from falling outright. At the top Ronan shoved Peter hard enough that he fell on his hands and knees with a strangled yelp.

“Fucking hell, Ro!” Peter winced as he kneeled back, his palms stinging from the impact on the rocky surface. “Why so rough all—“

“Quiet!” The word was growled out, the echo of it in the great hall made it seem almost otherworldly.

Peter shut his mouth.

Slowly, predatorily, Ronan stepped in front of Peter’s kneeling body, his boots whispering over the fallen rubble. The seat of the throne was intact enough that Ronan could sit on it comfortably. He sat, leaning forward so that he was almost eye level with Peter. With less force than was used on the back of his neck, Ronan wrapped his large, blue hand just under Peter’s jaw and around his throat, preventing Peter from being able to look away.

“Never do that again.” Ronan’s words were softer, tinged with something Peter could have sworn was worry. “If you ever pull something like that again I will consider our bond broken.”

“Wha—“ Peter started to choke out, but Ronan putting more pressure around his throat to emphasize to be quiet was received loud and clear.

“On Hala,” Ronan began, icily calm, “if a child of higher stature would act out in such manner they would be thrown into the slave pits to be bought by the highest ranking officers and politicians to live out the rest of their childhood in household servitude. To play such pranks on others is considered a high affront to the Kree.” He slowly released his grip on Peter, leaning back.

Heat flared on Peter’s face. He should have known, should have actually thought before doing that stupid trick. The sudden thought of those adventure movies he’d watched as a kid took hold without him and he hadn’t thought of the consequences. He knew the Kree were mostly born without much of a funny bone or a funny bone that actually made sense to him, so why did he have to act so stupid?

“Ronan,” he paused waiting to see if he would be cut off again. Ronan sat there silently which was enough of an answer for Peter to continue. “I’m sorry. I-I dunno, man, I just got excited and y’know when the hero in the movie—no, wait, you wouldn’t know. Stupid of me to think you would. I just… I thought it would be funny. I’m just really happy right now and sometimes that makes me do stupid shit.”

“Happy?”

“Yeah! Dude, aren’t you happy? Being here with you, just exploring, not having to worry about very much right now. Gettin’ married and all. It’s just… well, it’s probably one of the happiest times in my life.” Peter flushed, looking down at the ground. “Actually it is the happiest time of my life,” he mumbled slightly at the end, but the words were clear enough. Growing up with the Ravagers’ emotionally stunted lifestyle made expressing feelings kinda alien to him. He had to quickly learn to push them aside at a young age if he wanted to get by.

A thumb and forefinger under Peter’s chin gently raised him back up to Ronan’s deep purple eyes. Still stony faced, Ronan’s eyes were softer, the storm clouds quickly dissipating, leaving the happy sunshine Ronan behind. Which actually didn’t look all that different than angry I-love-to-murder-people-I-don’t-like Ronan.

“It is mine, too,” Ronan said softly.

Peter’s face lit up with excited joy and his chest vibrated with a light that he could never fully describe except as Ronan. That lasted all but .02 seconds.

“But.” Of course there was a ‘but’. Ronan continued, “I want an apology.”

Now it was Peter’s turn to be confused. “I just did, Ro. And I meant it, really. I’ll say it a thousand times.”

“Your verbal apology is accepted, but I require more.”

“Anything, you name it, I’m game!” Peter smiled, relieved and happy to know that Ronan would forgive him.

Ronan slowly moved his hands towards the waist of his pants. “Your apology will not be accepted,” he paused as he undid a buckle, “until you fully satisfy me.”

The electric current of arousal shot down from Peter’s brain to his groin lightening quick, beginning that lovely pool of warmth that would soon gather to bursting in his core. Peter licked his lips, watching Ronan delicately unfasten his pants. “I’ll give you such an apology you won’t be able to remember what I did.”

Ronan grunted in amusement at that, not believing Peter for one moment, but curious to see if he could try. The intricate buckles were undone; now all that was left was the fastener. “You will take it all, Peter Quill.” Ronan’s deep voice vibrated right into Peter’s core, making him swell in his pants. “Take what I give you and be grateful that I am bestowing this gift on you.”

Eyes fluttering shut, Peter parted his mouth in a breathy sigh at those words. Goddamn Ronan could get under his skin nice and good, rubbing and scratching in all the right places, rendering him speechless and completely open, in more ways than one. “Y’know how much I love feeling you in my mouth, babe, so this is one of the best gifts.” Peter shifted closer, placing his hands palm down on top of Ronan’s strong thighs, his eyes hazy with lust watching as Ronan completed unfastening his pants and pulling out his flaccid cock. Again all Peter could do was lick his lips in anticipation.

An eerie quiet seem to grip them and their surroundings, the air still in the ruined chamber of the temple. Ronan reached out to cup the side of Peter’s face, almost as if he was bestowing a benediction upon him for his soon to be service. Peter leaned into his touch, feeling that eerie tingle of the old gods through Ronan’s flesh. He wanted to serve his husband and offer himself over completely. Their eyes met, both of them darkening with arousal, but with Ronan there was that hardness that indicated his status above all others.

Ronan gently removed his hand, letting his fingertips trail lightly over Peter’s cheekbone leaving a hint of fire on his skin from the contact. Peter dropped his eyes to Ronan’s abdomen and leaned in, wrapping a hand around the base of the flaccid cock in front of him. Angling it the right way, Peter pressed his mouth to the tip, gently brushing his lips over top before he parted them, kissing it lightly. Already Ronan began to swell under his hand. The heat and blood rushing to his erection made Peter feel powerful because he was doing this. He was getting Ronan hard. He was going to make Ronan come and breathe his name over and over again. The thrill of that power made Peter’s cock twitch and grow harder in his pants. Right now he could care less about his erection, right now it was all about Ronan.

“Mmm, yes,” Ronan murmured as Peter slowly kissed the tip and squeezed around the base. “If I am satisfied then you shall get a reward as well.”

Peter looked up, frowning a little, his lips already glossy from his saliva. “You mean you were going to let me walk out of here with a raging hard-on? Dude, that’s just mean.” He gave Ronan’s cock a hard squeeze for that.

“As I recall,” Ronan said, almost deadpan, “someone did me an injustice and caused unnecessary worry.”

Peter scrunched his nose a little at that, a bit embarrassed. “Yeah, well. Y’know, me.”

“I do,” Ronan almost purred, “and I know you will enjoy what you’re about to give me.”

Peter smirked. “You got that right, babe. Let me show you.”

Now it was time for Peter to shine. Or do the shining. But regardless of what it was, Peter was proud that he had a great talent at sucking men, and aliens, off. Now it wasn’t a well-publicized talent of his, but as he’d grown up on the Ravagers’ ship as a teen, he realized he wasn’t quite straight, often imagining a guy sucking him off or fingering him as he stroked himself to sleep each night. The first few times he was old enough to join the rest of the crew as they made port on the planets with the more reputable gambling dens and brothels, he tasted and explored women, enjoying the feeling immensely. But when he was 19 and had his first male sexual encounter, he was happily told that he could suck cock like no man could and should think about going into business with that talent. While Peter ignored the latter, he did enjoy the prospect of the former and practiced his talents on others. One drunken night with the crew he blurted out he should have been Cock-Lord, not Star-Lord. Everyone thought that was hilarious, but it was a good thing no one, except Peter, remembered. Didn’t want to attract the wrong kind of company.

Gently stroking Ronan to make him harder, Peter took the head of Ronan’s cock in his mouth and gently sucked, flicking his tongue over the tip inside. He felt the heat build in his mouth from the friction and blood rushing to Ronan’s need, filling his mouth further. Soon the self-lubrication that Kree males secreted from their sex began to make things easier and Peter’s mouth started to grow slick with it. Pulling back, Peter let the engorged head slip past his lips, leaving them a glossy red. “Fuck, I love this.” Peter breathed.

Ronan made a noncommittal sound deep in his throat. He looked down at Peter, half lidded eyes commanding him to get back to his work.

Peter sighed, contented, and gave Ronan’s nearly erect cock a few strokes, spreading the self-lubrication over it. He felt the slight ridges that Kree males are born with as he ran his hand along Ronan’s length. It left such a deliciously wonderful sensation when he felt them on his tongue and against his prostate, that Peter knew he’d never be satisfied with regular Terran-like dick again. He moved his hand down, gently spreading more of the fluid over the base and over Ronan’s balls, which did not show fully outside the body like a Terran’s, but were no less sensitive when touched. Peter ran a finger between them, smiling as Ronan gave a low growl in his chest.

Now it was really time to get to work.

With Ronan nearly fully hard, his thick length stood proudly in Peter’s grasp. He bent in and began licking and kissing with abandon, tracing his tongue over each vein, ridge, and corner. Peter pulled back the foreskin revealing the swollen deep purple-blue head. Peter knew Ronan was most sensitive here, so he started slow, licking around it and under the foreskin like a deliciously sinful lollipop. Soon a strong hand was running through his wavy hair, gripping the back of his skull. Ronan definitely approved.

Looking up through his strawberry blond lashes, Peter grinned wickedly at his husband, giving one little lick of the tip. Ronan’s lips parted, his hand gripping harder.

“You want me to take you in my mouth?” Peter said huskily, following with another lick. “Want me to suck you all down?”

“I refuse to beg.” Ronan’s voice practically dripped with need, but pride won out. He would not beg for Peter, not now at least.

“Mmm, too bad. If you did, I wouldn’t take my time then.” Peter gave another wicked smile, his eyes darkening playfully. Tonguing the slit a bit, he coaxed out more precum, smiling as the drop touched his tongue with bitter and sweet notes. He opened his mouth and slid his lips over the swollen head once again. Ronan’s sharp intake of breath was a strong indication of approval.

He loved this. He loved making his husband feel good, feel powerful as he sucked down Ronan’s length. Taking it slow, Peter hollowed his cheeks as he sucked the tip up and down, milking more precum from Ronan. As he swirled his tongue around inside, a low moan was heard above. Peter glanced up again, his cock swelling harder at the look on Ronan’s face; lips parted, eyes shut, and brow furrowed in pleasure. Peter fucking loved that look and wish it could be on Ronan’s face permanently. Slowly inching down the impressive length and girth (because of course Peter hit the jackpot of Kree dick), Peter hummed, sending deliciously small vibrations through Ronan. The only indications of approval were fingertips digging harder into Peter’s skull.

Peter sucked, licked, stroked, and hummed his way down to the base of Ronan’s cock repeatedly, slow at first, but gradually faster and faster. He was always thankful that he had learned early on how to deep-throat a guy without choking because it paid off in so many ways now. Ronan’s hips rocked slightly, trying to fuck Peter’s mouth. Lubrication, precum, and saliva dripped from Peter’s mouth onto his chin. He didn’t care, the messier the better. The taste of Ronan was thick within him. As Peter slowly drew up, he swallowed his husband’s juices, aching for the feeling when Ronan would tip over that ultimate edge of no return. As much as he wanted to keep it slow, Peter’s need was winning and by the looks of Ronan’s pleasured expression, he needed it, too.

“You wanna cum, babe?” Peter asked hoarsely, letting the head slip out of his mouth. A strand of precum clung to Peter’s bottom lip, not wanting to give up the connection with his mouth.

Opening his eyes, Ronan studied his husband and the debauched look on his face; cheeks flushed red, lips swollen and slick, eyes pricked with tears that had nothing to do with sorrow, and most of all, the darkness of lust within them. He moved his hand slowly from the back of Peter’s head, around to cup the side of his face while placing his other there to hold Peter’s head between his hands.

“Yes,” Ronan’s voice was beyond dripping with need. It was deep and dark pools of lust, something only Peter was allowed to hear. “Take what I have to offer you, Peter Quill. Take it all.”

Those powerful hands guided Peter down onto his cock again, his mouth opening wider to accept its prize. Peter didn’t hold back, sucking as hard as he could as he moved up and down, half guided by Ronan, half on instinct. He felt the heat building in his core and Ronan’s as if they were in sync with each other, their very beings connected.

Sloppy, slick fluid noises filled the temple hall, echoing and making things sound more filthy than they could be. Soon Ronan’s moans and breathy pants joined them, and orgy of sounds filled their senses.

“PETER!” Ronan practically growled out, echoing like a prayer.

Then Peter felt it. The way Ronan’s cock seemed to tense under his tongue then release, and with that release the stream of cum that flooded his mouth. He moaned low in his throat as Ronan came in him, pumping warm spurts of cum down his throat. Peter’s eyes were squeezed shut, determined to not spill even one precious drop, which was hard with Ronan’s sharp movements guiding his head up and down in a disjointed mess.

Peter drank down everything Ronan was giving him and was soon a little disappointed as Ronan’s orgasm began to ebb away. He gently sucked the last drops out and was rewarded with the pressure of Ronan’s hands lessening then disappearing altogether. Slowly, almost reverently, Peter let go, looking up to his husband. Peter smiled almost dreamily and then made a show of swallowing the rest of Ronan’s cum that was still in his mouth. This never failed to make Ronan’s heart pause with lust and pride at his Peter and his willingness to swallow him down.

Slowly Ronan reached out, placing his thumb underneath Peter’s bottom lip. He gently rubbed, spreading some of the last remnants of his cum and other fluids over it. Peter swayed on his knees, loving the gentle touch of Ronan’s praise. He tilted his mouth down, kissing the pad of Ronan’s thumb with his lips as a small thank you.

“Up,” Ronan commanded.

Peter blinked, not registering right away what Ronan was saying.

“UP!” Ronan commanded again, the sharp tone reverberating around them.

“Uh, yeah,” Peter mumbled, trying to get to his feet. His knees ached from being on the rough and uneven ground, so he stumbled slightly as he rose. Ronan grabbed the waist of his pants to steady him. That’s when it registered that Peter was in fact hard, like really, really hard. Hard enough that the light friction from his clothing was enough to make the breath hitch in his throat.

“Turn. Now.” Ronan’s words were clipped, commanding.

Not willing to argue, Peter did and gave a small yelp as Ronan wrapped a strong arm around his waist and pulled him aggressively down into his lap, his back now resting against Ronan’s chest. Almost violently, Ronan moved his legs so they were between Peter’s, his knees forcing Peter’s to spread his legs.

“Ronan, what—AH!” Peter was silenced as Ronan bit down on his neck underneath his jaw. He tipped his head back, giving Ronan better access. He knew he’d have a hell of a hickey there soon, but fuck it, he’d wear it with absolute pride.

“Undo your pants,” Ronan growled in his ear, hot breath ghosting along Peter’s sensitive flesh.

“Y-yeah,” Peter said shakily, reaching down to undo his pants, Ronan still holding him tight against his chest as he did so. Finishing his task, Peter dropped his head back on Ronan’s shoulder, turning to face him and looking at him pleadingly. Without any hint of what was wanted, Ronan was on Peter’s lips, devouring them. They kissed and bit, the kiss rough and needy with no indication of softness. It was pure want, pure need, pure sexual arousal that drove them. Without any warning Peter cried out as Ronan snaked his hand down his open pants and palmed his achingly hard cock. It felt so good. So goddamn good that one of those tears that Peter held as he sucked Ronan down fell down his cheek.

“Ah! Ah! AH!” Peter panted, reaching up and behind him to roughly grab the back of Ronan’s neck. “R-Ro… fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Good, Peter. Good,” Ronan chanted as he stroked Peter, making sure to pay attention to the head and the precum gathering there. He bit at Peter’s jaw, making his breath catch between moans.

“Oh fuck, Ro! I’m—“ Peter cried, letting Ronan guide his body towards release.

“Come. I want to hear you come,” Ronan ordered.

As if a priest giving a blessing, Peter crumbled under those words, giving the pressure that had been growing inside permission to release. “AHH! RONAN!” he shouted brokenly into the temple, moaning and gasping as his orgasm flowed through him, his cum streaming from him and splashing on the steps of the broken dais. Ronan continued to pump and squeeze, wanting everything from him. Way too soon for Peter’s liking, Ronan’s ministrations on his cock started to become less pleasurable and more painful.

“A-ah, babe, please,” Peter said breathily.

Ronan immediately stopped stroking and squeezing, letting Peter fall from his grip. He pressed a gentle kiss to the side of Peter’s head. “Did you enjoy it?”

What kind of fucked up question was that? Of course he’d enjoyed it. He enjoyed everything Ronan did to him and more. Letting out a hoarse laugh, Peter turned his head further and nuzzled the side of Ronan’s neck. “Is that even a fuckin’ question, Ro?”

“Mmm, I suppose not.”

They sat there, Peter leaning against Ronan, his legs forced apart and his slowly softening cock resting on his hip. Peter enjoyed the feeling of Ronan’s chest rising and falling slowly underneath him. And of course, like always after sex, Ronan wasn’t out of breath. Jerk.

Ronan soon broke the silence. “I believe we should leave now.”

“Mmmmyeah,” Peter slurred, feeling that relaxing post orgasm languor take hold. “You’re gonna have to carry me.”

Ronan huffed. “I will do no such thing. You are perfectly capable of walking yourself.”

“But babe, after sex sleepy time,” Peter complained.

“If you wish to nap when we get back to our ship you may, but I will not carry you.” Ronan shifted himself underneath Peter, forcing him to get up off his lap.

“You’ve got such crappy pillow talk.” Peter grumped as he stood shakily, doing up his pants

“You’ve never complained before.” Ronan smirked.

“I know I have and you know I have, so shush. I need a nap. And a shower.” Peter stood in front of Ronan, waiting for him to finish buckling his pants. Honestly what was it with Kree and the elaborate buckles and fasteners? No wonder these guys were so rigid if they couldn’t get their dicks out fast enough to get some.

“I’m inclined to agree. You shall shower first.”

“Woah, how come you get to tell me what to do?”

Finishing fastening up his pants, Ronan stepped up to Peter and leaned in for a soft, quick kiss. “Because,” he said quietly as they broke apart, “I will be showering with you.”

“Oh,” Peter’s eyes widened excitedly. “Alright then, shower first.”

“Good.”

Making their way down the dais, they began to head out of the temple when suddenly Peter turned back the way they came; half jogging towards the statue where he played his little prank earlier. He kneeled down and stuck his hand inside the large crack in the stone.

Ronan frowned, metaphorical storm clouds quickly gathering overhead.

“’S alright, babe.” Peter grunted, trying to pull something out of the stone. “There’s something here.” With a hard yank and small cloud of dust, Peter pulled free a small oval like orb no bigger than a baseball. “Ah ha! Here we are!” He held it up, examining it. The dark surface reflected the little light that was streaming in through the cracked temple walls and roof. Subtle colours swirled around the surface and Peter was able to make out faint lines etched into the orb giving it an almost scaly pattern. Opening his pack he put the oddly shaped orb in and reached into the crack again pulling out two more similar looking orbs.

“Looks like this trip wasn’t a total waste!” he said cheerily, joining Ronan at his side.

“If I find out these things are completely worthless, the situation will not end well for you, Peter,” Ronan stated, frowning.

“But isn’t it the journey that is the real reward in all this?”

“No.”

“You’re so cute.” Peter laughed as they made their way out of the hall and the temple.


	2. Morning Scratches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains fluff. Please proceed with pillows for proper sound cancellation.

Setting the bowl of food down on the small galley table, Ronan sat down on the bench seat, eyeing the three orbs sticking out of Peter’s satchel. They’d been unceremoniously dumped there the previous day as Peter tried to strip as fast as he could when they returned from their temple excursion. Several articles of Peter’s clothing were still scattered around the galley and living area, but Ronan refused to pick up after him. Peter was perfectly capable of doing his own chores.

He didn’t know why exactly, but he had an uneasy feeling about these orbs, like they were more than just precious rocks or some form of jewel with etched markings on them. Of course, Ronan had previous trust issues with orbs and the whole Infinity Stone deal, so who could really blame him? Orbs and the Guardians weren’t a great mix.

Stabbing his fork into the generous helping of grains and vegetables that Kree enjoyed breaking their fast with, Ronan tried to put those thoughts out of his mind. Instead, he would enjoy today with Peter, who was still asleep in their cabin. The plan was to go into the capital city of the planet Lumina, where they were currently residing. Right now they were settled in the outskirts of a small city, somewhere nice and private. Peter had compared their honeymoon to a road trip, only with ‘fewer roads and more space and weird shit’. Whatever it was called, Ronan was just glad it was the two of them.

A small piece of vegetable fell off Ronan’s fork, hitting him on his bare chest. He opted for minimal—by Kree standards—clothing this morning; no shirt or chest armour, just his pants and large boots. Wiping the remnants of the food off his deep blue skin with a cloth, Ronan continued to enjoy his meal. That is until he heard the faint scratching noise within the galley. Kree senses were far superior to Terran’s, but even this was hard to pick up at first. He looked around trying to figure out the direction of the noise when it stopped as suddenly as it had started. It must have been an animal outside, curious about the ship landed in its territory. Ronan relaxed, eating the rest of his meal in peace.

Soon after he was done, Peter walked in completely naked, yawning widely. His hair was all rumpled and flat on one side and he had this dozy look on his face that Ronan adored—a fact that he would never reveal to Peter in full. Ronan had a lot of feelings, but getting those feelings outside of him was still a challenge. Peter knew and understood, always gently coaxing, and sometimes yelling for him to tell him how he really felt. The way Ronan was brought up and trained, feelings were on the short list unless they were anger, dominance, and cunning. Those he excelled at.

“G’mornin’, babe.” Peter yawned, sleep still thick in his voice. He padded his way over to the galley cupboard looking for a mug.

“Good morning.” Ronan watched his husband, or more specifically his husband’s naked butt, move around as he made coffee. Well, at least the closest equivalent of coffee in this part of the galaxy.

“You want some of your tea?” Peter asked, turning, holding up a tin of Ronan’s favourite blend.

“Please.”

Peter shuffled around the galley kitchen making their respective drinks of choice and got himself a bowl of the grains and veggies, or what he called ‘Captain Kree’. Of course, Ronan didn’t get the reference, but then again, he’d learned a long time ago to just let Peter roll with it. It made him happy.

With the tea and coffee done, Peter came and sat next to Ronan, sighing, leaning into his side for warmth and comfort. Ronan snaked his arm around Peter’s waist, pulling him closer and holding him there while Peter began to eat.

Ronan pressed a kiss to Peter’s temple. “How do you feel?”

“Pre’gud,” Peter mumbled out through a mouthful of food.

“In Terran,” Ronan rolled his eyes. While he had learned the Terran language called English without needing a universal translator, a Terran speaking with a mouthful of food proved to be a bit different.

Swallowing, Peter smiled, giving Ronan a quick kiss on the side of his mouth. “Pretty good. You? But before you answer, let me guess. ‘I am well.’”

Ronan huffed slightly at the assumption but was more annoyed that Peter was correct. “I am fine.”

“Told ya.” Peter smirked, tucking back into his breakfast.

Ronan watched Peter eat as he sipped at his tea, thumb absently rubbing over Peter’s skin, and thinking of nothing in particular when he heard that faint scratching noise again.

“Do you hear that?” he asked, looking around.

“Umm…” Peter paused, a half-eaten vegetable sticking out of his mouth. He cocked his head to one side, listening. “Nope, don’t hear anything.”

“It’s this faint scratching noise. I heard it earlier.”

Peter shrugged. “Could be an animal outside?”

“Maybe.” But Ronan was getting a distinct feeling that it wasn’t. He tried to pinpoint the location of the noise, but Peter’s less than quiet eating habits were getting in the way. Soon again the noise stopped.

Finishing his breakfast, Peter stretched his arms over his head. He didn’t miss the way Ronan’s eyes ran up and down his torso as he did, so he put a little more effort into showing off his toned and well-muscled physique. “See something you like?” Peter teased, raising his eyebrows in a silent invitation to look further.

“Mmm, very much.” Ronan hummed in approval. Leaning in, he took Peter’s lips in a long slow kiss until they both melted into it, slowly working their tongues against each other in a lazy sensual way. When they parted, Peter’s cheeks were flushed pink.

“I dunno if I can take you again right now,” Peter said huskily, “you worked me really well last night.” He placed a hand on Ronan’s bare chest, feeling the calm and steady heartbeat of Ronan underneath his palm.

“I do not wish to cause you discomfort,” Ronan said, wrapping his hand over Peter’s. The look on his face darkened seductively. “We can pleasure each other in different ways as we often do.” His voice dropped deep in his chest as he spoke, sending shivers of anticipation over Peter’s naked skin.

“I’d like that very, very much.” Peter smiled wickedly, slowly getting up off the bench, his cock already starting to swell in excitement.

Ronan didn’t let go of Peter’s hand as he got up and they moved back into their cabin, all thoughts of the mysterious scratching noise forgotten.

 

Several orgasms later, Peter stepped back into the galley, fully dressed this time, to make another mug of coffee. As he put the water on to heat up, a small scraping noise caught his attention. Turning, he looked around the room for the source of the noise and found none. Figuring it was that animal Ronan had heard earlier, he went back to making his coffee. The morning-after-sex coffee always tasted better, mainly because he could still faintly taste his husband in his mouth. Coffee and husband was always a great mix in Peter’s book.

When the coffee was done, Peter made his way over to computer screen docked to the wall next to the seating area. As he reached out to activate the screen he paused, the scraping noise suddenly becoming louder. Frowning, he set his mug down on the table.

“Hey, Ro? I think that animal you heard may be messin’ with the ship. Gonna go outside and see what’s up,” Peter called in the direction of their cabin.

“Do you want help?”

“Nah, should be good. If y’hear loud screams and bloodshed maybe come and help?”

Ronan poked his head through the doorway, frowning darkly and pouting. “If you play such pranks on me again you know—“

“Yeah, I gotcha,” Peter said, almost sheepishly. “I learned my lesson, really. No more crying wolf.”

Despite Ronan’s deepening frown, the sincerity in Peter’s voice was enough to convince him of the truth. Peter had learned his lesson and would not risk any more of Ronan’s wrath, even if that wrath had turned in to majorly awesome sexytimes.

“Anyway,” Peter continued, “I’ve got my blasters, so I’ll be alright.” He reached down to pick up the belt and holsters he’d haphazardly tossed over a crate in his desperate need to be naked the night before.

Ronan nodded once in approval. “Just try not to damage the ship if you must use them.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha. You know I’m one of the best shots in the galaxy,” Peter said proudly, buckling his belt.

Ronan didn’t answer, instead he left to go back to their cabin.

“Admit it! You know I am!” he called back but received no answer. Knowing Ronan was just trying to egg him on in his own subtle Ronan way, Peter made his way towards the door that would lead him outside of the ship.

 

A short time later, having no success, Peter came back inside. The ship had been fine, nothing out of place or damaged that he could see. He was really grateful for this fact, since this ship was borrowed. He would have loved to have taken the _Milano_ for their honeymoon, but the rest of the Guardians didn’t want to be displaced in one spot for who knew how long it took Peter and Ronan to fuck themselves enough to come back safely to live with others. After making Gamora swear several hundred times she’d keep an extra hard eye on the ship, Peter called in a favour of a favour from a few contacts he had and was able to borrow this one. It wasn’t as big as the _Milano_ , not by half, but it was good and handled well. The only stipulation was that if it were at all damaged he’d have to pay for it, which would be a problem because being a Guardian of the Galaxy didn’t exactly come with a steady pay cheque.

Ronan rounded the corner just as the doors were closing behind Peter. “Any problems?”

“No, nothin’. Which I guess is good. So it means that it must be something in here. Or we’re crazy.” He pressed a quick kiss on Ronan’s lips.

“While that is untrue on my part, it is debatable on yours,” Ronan said too matter-of-factly.

“Shit man, you gotta stop with all the jokes or I may die of shock!” Peter laughed, savouring the quiet moments with Ronan where he let his complete guard down and let go. Somewhere, deep down inside, Ronan was quite funny. Okay, really deep. So deep you’d probably wind up at the end of the universe before you found it, but it was there. However, Peter had been allowed to see that side of him and it was one of the best gifts ever, something he held close to his heart.

“I doubt it’s anything to be concerned over, just a loose panel of the ship or somethin’. Maybe part of the oxygen filter is broken. We can check later. Right now we should head out if we want to check out some of the capital. All my warrants in this system were expunged by the Nova Prime, so we should be good to go!” Smiling brightly, Peter made his way left down the corridor to the cockpit.

Ronan didn’t share Peter’s complete enthusiasm. While Peter may have been exonerated from past mistakes, Ronan’s weren’t as nicely tidied up. A good portion of the Kree Empire believed he had died on Xandar, those who did not, had issued an order of exile. Dead or not, Ronan could not return to Hala and his people. It was through this dark time that he had realized the depth of his feelings for Peter who had helped Ronan through some of his darkest moments, forgiving him for his past misdeeds and accepting Ronan when Ronan could not even accept himself. For the first time in his life, he was without purpose or an end goal. While Ronan did not have warrants on this planet, he still had to keep an eye out for bounty hunters or assassins, hired by others he’d done wrong. Going out in public wasn’t scary to Ronan at all, in fact, the truth still was that the public should be scared of him. But he would rather stay out of any conflict for Peter’s sake and the still fragile new life he was building for himself.

Following Peter, Ronan met him in the small cockpit, sitting on Peter’s left. Peter was too busy flicking switches and checking readings on the computer screen to notice Ronan looking at him with what could almost be considered a warm expression. For Peter, Ronan would go where he wanted. He had spent too much of his life confined to the orders of so many on Hala and his beliefs, now he would only confine himself to his husband.

Peter turned his way, smiling. “Ready to go, babe?”

“Yes.”


	3. You Dun Messed Up, Peter Quill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronan see's his first zombie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to Riah for being an amazing beta and helping me turn my okay words into much better words.

“Oh god.” Peter groaned pathetically. “Babe, why did you let me eat so much?”

“Because, and I directly quote, ‘Ro, my new life’s mission is to eat everything in this restaurant. Nothing else matters.’” Ronan finished keying in the code to the ship’s door and stood still while the retinal scan confirmed his identity.

Peter leaned his forehead against the side of the ship, groaning theatrically. “Whyyyyyy?” he whined to no one in particular.

They had spent a great afternoon exploring the city and looking at the sites. They drew a few stares, mainly due to Ronan. Before the treaties were signed, the Kree weren’t allowed on Lumina, but since then a few had been seen around the city. Ronan had just pulled the hood of his coat further down, not wanting to cause any distraction. He would have preferred to have worn his Accuser armour and carry his hammer, but that was just asking for trouble with a capital ‘T’.

After a recommendation from a local about a great restaurant that Peter and Ronan should absolutely not miss, they proceeded to sit for a nearly 5-hour dinner while Peter practically died of excitement over the food.

“Holy shit, this is the closest thing I’ve had to Chinese food since leaving Earth!” Peter had said, his eyes fluttering shut in absolute bliss as he took the first few bites of his meal.

While Ronan found the food enjoyable, he didn’t share Peter’s enthusiasm for it. He was, however, happy to sit and watch his husband eat and light up with delight at each new dish. They talked about everything and nothing, just simply enjoying each other’s company. They would have probably still been there if the restaurant didn’t have to close for the night.

“Come on, Peter.” Ronan got behind him, placing his hands on his shoulders to guide Peter through the open doorway. “You will feel better in the morning.”

“I’m never eating again,” Peter complained. In addition to all the food he had eaten, he had drunk quite a bit and was more than a little tipsy. Shit-faced would have been the correct medical term for Peter right now. Of course, Ronan was far from tipsy, not only because his Kree biology prevented him from getting drunk easily, but also because Ronan straight up didn’t drink at all. Except for his tea and water. Again, Kree were jerks.

Ronan and Peter moved through dimly lit corridors towards the shared galley and living area. Shadows and soft glowing light illuminated the angles of Peter’s face, enhancing all the delicious spots that Ronan loved to kiss, lick, and suck on. Ronan wanted to do just that but knew Peter was in no condition to do much except sleep off his food and drink.

“Babe?” Peter asked, the word slightly slurred in his mouth. Turning around, he faced Ronan, his eyes bright and glossy looking.

“Yes?”

“You know I love you...” Peter started.

Ronan frowned quizzically. “Of course I know—“

“Like, really, really fucking love you,” Peter said cutting him off. “Like, so goddamn much that I think my heart may…” He glanced around as if the word he was looking for was just sitting on a shelf he could pick up.

“Burst?” Ronan prompted.

“Yeah! Yeah, that! God, Ro, I’m so lucky.” Peter’s voice dropped to a broken whisper. He closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Ronan’s waist and pulling him into a hard hug. Burying his face into the crook of Ronan’s neck, Peter inhaled that beautiful scent that was Ronan. It almost made him want to cry.

While slightly taken aback, Ronan held Peter steady and strong in his arms. “I am lucky, too,” he murmured.

Peter squeezed harder, mumbling something incoherent.

“Come, let’s get to our bed,” Ronan coaxed, slowly trying to move Peter in the right direction.

“’Kay. Then you’ll fuck me nice and good, right? Like you always do?”

While the sultry smile that Peter gave Ronan was more comical than sexy, he couldn’t help but nod. “Yes. The sooner we get to our room the sooner I can claim you, my husband.”

The word ‘husband’ seemed to startle Peter. “Holy fuck, we got married,” he whispered loudly, eyes going wide.

“Yes, we did.”

“Awwwwsome,” Peter exclaimed, staring awestruck off into the distance. Even though he was drunker than drunk, the naked joy and happiness on Peter’s face made Ronan smile.

“Now, bed,” Ronan ordered, guiding Peter through their cabin doorway. “Strip and lie down, I will be with you shortly.” He walked through the door to the head leaving Peter to undress.

Less than graceful, Peter clumsily pawed at his shirt, ripping it off over his head. His pants proved to be a bit trickier with the buckle and fasteners, but he figured it out. Tripping over himself and his half discarded clothing, Peter landed on the bed with a small ‘oof!’

“Ready for you, babe!” Peter lay back, trying to strike a sexy pose.

Moments later, Ronan stepped out from their small head and snorted with amusement. Peter was sprawled out on their bed, one pant leg and boot completely off and the other pant leg bunched up around his knee, the second boot still firmly on his foot. At least now Peter was passed out and wouldn’t mind if Ronan gently removed the remaining articles of clothing. Not that he would have minded if he were awake and sober either, of course.

Ronan undressed and crawled into bed next to Peter, wrapping a well muscled blue arm around Peter’s stomach, holding him close. The skin-to-skin contact made both men relax, even Peter in his unconscious state.

As Ronan drifted off to sleep, he was unaware of the noises coming from inside the ship.

_Tap, tap, tap…_

 

The next morning as Ronan ate his breakfast, a boxer-brief wearing zombie stumbled through the door into the galley kitchen. Smirking with amusement Ronan continued to eat.

Disjointedly making his way to the coffee maker, Peter groaned. His mouth tasted like an old ashtray with sour beer poured into it and he needed to get rid of that as soon as he humanly could. With his back to Ronan, he managed to get a mug and press the button on the machine to boil water.

“Good morning,” Ronan said as close to cheerfully as Ronan could ever get.

Peter’s whole body tensed at the words. Still turned away from Ronan, he held up a hand in acknowledgment and grumbled, “hhhnnnnnnngggghfff.”

“You should eat something.”

“Noooooo,” Peter said weakly, his voice hoarse after losing the last remnants of his dinner and drink just minutes before. He’d have to clean the head later after his whole brain and body rebooted from last night.

He mixed his coffee and shuffled over to sit down at the table with Ronan. Ronan continued to eat, letting the comfortable silence, at least on his end of things, fill the room.

Peter slowly sipped his coffee and wished to hell that Superman would stop punching his brain. He hadn’t been that drunk in a long time. Usually, he made a point not to get too drunk. He’d learned his lesson a few times when he was with the Ravagers, either losing all his money in shady card games or waking up in the back alley of a bar with all his units missing. The worst was waking up one morning in bed, alone, to find all the stuff he had with him gone, clothes and all. He had hooked up with a good-looking Voldi man with amazing feathered hair and rich purple skin. After many drinks, on Peter’s part, of course, they were soon in a room the Voldi had rented for the night. As Peter had frantically looked for his belongings, he’d sworn he would never drink that much again and thanked every celestial being in the universe that he had left his Walkman back on the Eclector. Things really got humiliating when he opened the door to his room to get help and found Yondu waiting right outside, giving Peter that ‘told ya so’ look before handing over his coat to him. When they returned to the ship Yondu had made Peter walk through the Eclector and back to his room naked while the other Ravagers did a shitty job trying to hold in their laughter.

“Always gotta be sharp, boy.” Yondu had laughed. “Brought this on, yerself.”

“What about my clothes?” Peter asked, embarrassed.

“Not my problem.” Yondu smiled, but the humour hadn’t reached his eyes. “Find s’more or make ‘em.”

Peter vowed he wouldn’t ever let something like that happen again.

A blue hand gently rested on Peter’s forearm, jarring him out of his memories. Slowly blinking, he looked to Ronan who had finished his breakfast moments ago.

“Hi,” Peter croaked.

Ronan studied Peter closely for any signs of distress other than a hangover from hell.

“Hello,” Ronan replied quietly. “Are you alright?”

“Uh, gimme a few years and I’ll get back to you,” Peter grumbled, taking another sip of his coffee. At least it helped take that godawful taste out of his mouth. His headache, on the other hand, was something that would require a keg of coffee.

“So the famous Star-Lord has been defeated by alcohol,” Ronan teased.

“Heeey, no need to be mean,” Peter said weakly, trying to sound as offended as he could. “But thank you for calling me Star-Lord.”

“Of course.” Ronan smirked, sliding off the bench seat with his empty bowl in hand. “I would advise that you return to bed for the duration of the morning.”

“And I think I’ll take your advice, but only if you join me.”

“I have no need for more rest today. I thought I would go and meditate in the forest near the temple we visited.”

“But babe, I need Nurse Roro,” Peter whined playfully, but winced as a sharp pain in his skull put an end to that line of thought.

“You need rest. I will not hear more of it. Later you may join me or we can do another activity.” The word ‘activity’ hung in the air, the promise of pleasurable things behind it.

“There was that waterfall that we flew over a few miles back when we arrived,” Peter said, never taking his eyes off Ronan as he put the mug up to his mouth and drank. The image of Ronan stepping out from under the waterfall, droplets of water clinging to his rich blue skin and slowly sliding down that gorgeous body almost made Peter want to start stroking himself. That is if he hadn’t felt like he had been run over by the Millennium Falcon.

“Then that is what we shall do.”

“Great!” Peter made to get up, temporarily forgetting Superman raising hell in his skull. “Ow,” he moaned, squeezing his eyes shut. “Right, okay, after.”

“Go lie down, I will bring you some tea to help with the pain,” Ronan reassured, turning to pick out one of the small tins that held his assortment of teas.

“Thanks, Nurse Roro.” Peter smiled weakly, slowly getting up to go back to bed.

“Call me that again and we will not visit the waterfall,” Ronan called after him.

A half-hearted groan of disappointment was the only reply Ronan got.

 

Several hours later, Peter woke up in a tangle of sheets more than slightly disappointed that it wasn’t a tangle of Ronan. He stretched, thankful that Superman had decided that the war on his skull was over and done with. The tea Ronan had made him seemed to help a lot with his hangover and he wondered why he didn’t drink more of it. Tea was great, tea was healing, tea… tasted like wet lawn to Peter. Ravagers definitely weren’t the biggest tea drinkers in the universe. Their beverage diet consisted mainly of beer, ale, cider, and more beer.

Running his tongue over his teeth, he felt the fuzz and disgustingness of last night and this morning’s happenings. Definitely time to brush. It was one thing he was thankful that his mom had drilled so hard into his head as a child, especially when he’d watched several Ravagers use dirty pliers or a pocket knife to dislodge damaged and broken teeth. Peter always had the best dental hygiene on Yondu’s crew.

“Ronan, you there?” Peter called out walking over to the head. No answer. He must not be back from his meditation session.

As Peter brushed his teeth, he debated whether to go out looking for him or wait until he got back, finally deciding on the former. The waterfall was calling to him and the sex underneath the waterfall was calling to his dick.

_Tap, tap, tap…_

“Ro?” Bubbles of toothpaste foam landed on the small mirror as he called out. Still no answer from Ronan. So what the hell was that noise? Determined to figure out this elusive sound, Peter finished brushing and quickly dressed.

The tapping grew louder and louder with each step he took towards the galley and living area. Entering through the doorway, Peter paused, standing still and listening. Little loud bursts of tapping followed by frantic scratching filled the air. This was definitely not something wrong with the ship; this was definitely something organic and possibly sentient.

“What the hell are you?” Peter said to himself. Whatever it was it was definitely nearby.

_Scratch, scratch, tap, tap, tap…_

He began searching the area, running a hand over panels, feeling for any loose or broken parts. The vent for the oxygen distributor was clear, so whatever it was, wasn’t in the ductwork of the ship. Maybe this thing was in the pipes that connected to the water system. Great, if he was drinking contaminated water he’d lose what was left in his stomach.

Resigning himself to opening up panels and looking into pipes and other nooks and crannies, Peter’s boot accidentally hit one of the storage crates for the food supplies. The loud tapping and scratching suddenly reached a frantic pitch.

“Gotcha!” Peter smiled triumphantly at the crate and bent down. “Thought you’d get a free meal from us, huh? Well, whatever you are, your all you can eat buffet is now closed, buddy.” He undid the latch of the crate and lifted the lid about an inch. He didn’t want whatever was in there jumping out at him. Not noticing anything about to pounce, Peter slowly lifted the lid higher. As he did, he frowned, not finding any animal or insect within the crate. Instead, the satchel he carried around with him on jobs and what he took with him to the temple the other day was sitting on top of the food. Why the hell was his satchel in there?

_“I will withhold all sex until you clean up your mess.”_

Ronan’s words echoed in Peter’s head. Right. Heh. While Ronan wasn’t a huge neat freak, he disliked it when Peter didn’t pick up his shit. He must have stuffed his satchel in there in his hurry to clean up.

Picking up the satchel, Peter began searching through the crate for the critter that he’d heard. Nothing was in the crate that Peter could see, so that meant that it must be in his satchel.

The satchel that currently held the orbs he took from the temple.

Peter’s stomach seemed to drop out of him and his face turned ashen as the pieces clicked together.

“Ah, fuck,” Peter breathed, squeezing his eyes shut in unease.

 

Ronan returned from his meditation a short time later. He found Peter at the galley table hunched over, his arms crossed and his chin resting on his right forearm. The three orbs from the temple were spread out in front of him as well, the biggest one being the closest to Peter.

“Are you still unwell?” Ronan asked, concerned.

“Yeah, I dunno, maybe,” Peter said, not looking up as Ronan came and sat next to him.

Puzzled, Ronan reached over and brushed a stray curl off of Peter’s forehead. Peter didn’t feel as though he had a fever, but then again Ronan had never felt a Terran with a fever, so he couldn’t be certain. “Then why—“

_Tap, tap, tap, crack!_

Ronan sharply turned his gaze to the orb in front of Peter. “That’s the source of the noise?”

“Yep. Congratulations, babe,” Peter said in an almost dreamlike state. “We’re about to be parents.”

Now Ronan was smart. Really, really smart, He had studied extensively as a child and throughout all his combat training. One of the main reasons he rose so high in rank at such an early age was because of his high intelligence. But right now he was completely dumbfounded. Then the large crack and small hole in the side of the orb caught his eye.

“Eggs,” he said without any emotion. “These are eggs.”

“Seems like it.” Peter sighed, lifting his head off his arm. “Thought I saw something sharp poke out of the hole there a few minutes ago. They’re getting close.” He scooted closer to Ronan, their shoulders nearly touching. “So how was your meditation?”

“Completely worthless now,” Ronan grumped. “How could you do this, Peter?”

“ _Me_?! I had no idea these things were alive! How was I supposed to know?” Peter said incredulously.

“Yes, you did not know what they were, but still you shouldn’t have taken them!” Ronan turned to face him, anger creeping into his voice.

“Didn’t exactly see you trying to stop me!” Peter shot back, his own voice taking a defensive turn.

“As I recall I tried to convince you many times on the way out of the temple that you should put them back,” Ronan growled. The familiar storm was beginning to gather in his eyes again. “So this is your doing, Peter Quill, and it is your job to fix it!”

“Fix it _how_?” Peter scowled. “It’s a bit late for that.” He indicated to the orb, or rather the egg, as it slightly rocked back and forth on the table, the thing inside moving around and trying to get out.

“Put these outside and we will leave. Let the natural course of the environment take control.”

While Ronan was a bit more pragmatic about the whole thing and the universe in general, Peter was not. After all, he’d still begun life on Terra and watched all those Disney movies as a young kid. He even had a hamster named Duke when he was in first grade. So yeah, Peter didn’t want to ditch these eggs without knowing what would happen to them. Plus, he just wanted to see what the hell this thing was, dammit.

“No, we’ll wait. See what it is and then take it somewhere it can live,” Peter said, drawing an invisible line between them with his words.

The two stared at each other. The challenge to oppose each other hung thick in the air. Ronan’s jaw was set in a hard line and Peter tried to put on his best ‘don’t fuck with me’ face.

_CRACK!_

Another chip of shell from the egg popped off, landing on the table with a small _plink_. The hole in the egg was getting bigger, almost big enough to stick the tip of a pinky finger in. Neither Ronan nor Peter wanted to do that.

The egg cracking distracted the pair from their impending fight, which in the long run would be best. Peter and Ronan had fought, many times, but that was before their relationship turned to the positive side. Now it was mainly bickering, nagging, teasing each other, and not full out fighting like in the past. They never wanted to go back to those feelings of when they first met.

Ronan’s shoulders sagged ever so slightly, seeming to indicate that he would leave this to Peter’s judgment. “I don’t like it.” Ronan made his point again. “This can only turn out poorly.”

“But what if it doesn’t?” Peter asked hopefully, linking his arm under Ronan’s. Their skin-to-skin contact never failed to make the both of them calm down and relax. “You trust me, right, babe?”

Without so much of a hesitation, Ronan nodded. “With my life.”

“Then let’s wait, see what this is, then we’ll do whatever we need to do to get it to the right home.” Peter squeezed Ronan’s arm slightly as a silent ‘please?’

Shutting his eyes in a silent prayer to the gods of his people, Ronan nodded once again. “I will agree, but begrudgingly.”

“That’s great!” Peter grinned, giving Ronan a quick kiss on the cheek, then turned to the egg. “Now let’s see what you are, little dude.”

The pair sat in silence watching as the egg continued to hatch.

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies to those without an AO3 account who want to comment, but due to internet trolls, I must disable anonymous commenting for this pairing.


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